


Lavender, Butterfly Weed, and Dirt

by Vita_S_West



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Short & Sweet, Tea Party, an ode to a moment, and cheeky boys, fantasy cottage, garden party, set in series 6, soft day brings soft thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vita_S_West/pseuds/Vita_S_West
Summary: Something has to be lovely.





	Lavender, Butterfly Weed, and Dirt

Morse came for business, for a distinct purpose. Leaning back in his chair, he watched Max idly. The other man’s tie bounced, as he fiddled about, setting out cake and drinks. Iced tea with lemon, the cool amber misting the glass beneath Morse’s touch. It was sweet, with a kick of acidity. No alcohol, something Morse thought he would need at first.

They were talking about the murder of a child, after all. These things affected Max, that Morse knew. During the Blythe Mount case Max had demanded that he catch the culprit. It replayed in Morse's mind, the expression of anguish, the desire for justice and revenge… Before arriving at the pathologist’s door, he had prepared himself for, perhaps, something similar. Another tense conversation.

It wasn’t what he’d found. To say sanctuary would open the moment up to religious interpretations. It was different, though. It was something altogether more pleasant, more peaceful. Besides, when it came to gardens and religion, Morse didn’t want to think of a fall from grace, or being cast out. Not in the gentle warmth of the day, shared in Max's garden.

Bees buzzed nearby. A warm breeze caressed them, as he studied Max, who sat across from him, hands folded, looking skyward. The day soften around them, and Morse's eyes softened too. 

“Something has to be lovely,” Max said, earnestly with a sigh.

“What? Other than me?” Morse mused.

“Cheeky boy,” Max smirked.

Morse blinked at him, a slight blush creeping out from under his collar. Unsure whether it was from of surprise or flattered satisfaction.

Then he offered a shrug and a wry smile. Max hadn't disagreed after all… Maybe he liked having Morse in his garden. This hadn’t been what Morse had expected from the visit. (He hadn’t come to flirt after all.) The dissipation of tension, of anxiety, of worry over Thursday, Joan, George, and Jim released tension from his shoulders. Tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. It was just him and Max in a garden. He’d come to pick Max’s brain, and to see a familiar face. He hadn’t come for any sort of salvation.

Still, Morse could imagine him out in the garden, almost reverently. A hat to shade his neck and eyes, gloves to protect against the stubborn weeds and prickly plants – ones not unlike Morse. (Max wasn’t wearing any now.) He could imagine Max in the evening, in his garden, as the slipping sun beckoned him to bed. Away from the murders, the guts, and the gore of it all. Just Max, and a warm breeze, filled with the smell of lavender, butterfly weed and dirt, perhaps carrying the twitter of a late robin, or an early owl.

Morse smiled at the thought, and even more at the thought of joining him. Something did have to be lovely and it wasn’t Morse, that he knew. That something was Max.

**Author's Note:**

> there u go, i finally wrote some bryndeavour!


End file.
